


Dinner Reservation

by littleboxesofstars



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blind Date, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, all the other losers are here but they're minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 16:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxesofstars/pseuds/littleboxesofstars
Summary: Eddie always had this look, when they were kids, a look that had been so plain and open that Bill couldn’t have missed it if he tried. And he didn’t try, unable to help but bask in it instead—a look that told him that Eddie thought Bill had been the one to hang the moon. The expression was covered up more as they got older, taken over by teenage self-awareness, but still peeking through every now and then. Now that they’d grown, Bill figured that the look was gone, that Eddie’s admiration of him had to have faded.But it was here, now, also mixed with adoration as Eddie looked down at him, so plain and so open and full, and all Bill wanted to do was kiss him.





	Dinner Reservation

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon on tumblr that requested "Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing" + "Blind date set up by friends" with kaspbrough! also posted to tumblr @trash-the-tozier

“I’ve had it. Had it! I’m fucking done! I’m over it!” Eddie’s voice was sharp, his hand movements sharper; it was a good thing that Richie had moved around behind him and taken the glass from his hand, or he would have spilled his gin and tonic all over himself and the floor. 

“Over what, Eddie?” Beverly asked, smiling more in amusement than sympathy, though there was sympathy in her voice. Her overly patient tone made Bill grin a little, and Eddie threw himself onto the couch, not unlike a child, bumping hard into Stan as he did, who looked disgruntled but didn’t move away. 

“Being single.” 

They were all at Ben and Beverly’s, and all at least a little drunk. It wasn’t the usual time of year that they all met up, usually choosing to do so around birthdays--and always on New Year’s--but Richie had flooded the group chat with whiny voice messages about wanting to see them all, and miraculously, all of them were free to meet up, so they had. Ben and Beverly had the nicest place, the engaged couple living in the penthouse suite of a building that Ben had designed in New York. The place was incredibly fancy, but had homey, comfortable touches to it that had relaxed Bill as soon as he stepped in. 

“You’re ready, you think?” Mike asked, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. He had a wrinkle in his forehead from making that expression so often over the years, and Eddie nodded resolutely. Eddie had gotten divorced a little less than a year ago, and while Richie had thrown a rather distasteful party for him after hearing the news, Bill knew that all of the Losers were glad that he’d been able to recognize how unhealthy his marriage had been and escape it on his own. 

“I need a man.” Eddie said, his face one of sheer determination, Richie wolf-whistling loudly, both in response and in agreement. 

“What kind of man?” Ben asked. He was grinning, but that wasn’t a surprise; Ben loved love. “Anyone in mind?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know.” 

“A bro?” Stan asked, and the entire group burst into laughter. The incorporation of “bro” into Eddie’s vocabulary had been--and still was--the funniest discovery of them all when the Losers had met up again as adults after so long. They all liked patronizing him with it, but hearing Stan say it was possibly even funnier.

“Fuck you.” Eddie said, but he was a bit drowsy now, his voice going a bit pouty and cute, and Bill felt a smile grow on his face despite himself as he watched him, Eddie resting a little bit against Stan’s shoulder.

“You know Eddie, I might be able to find a guy for you. I think he’d be up for a date with you. A friend of mine.” Beverly said. Her tone was careful, and thoughtful. She glanced at Bill for a moment, almost as though asking his opinion--not that Bill had one to offer, he didn’t know who she was thinking about--before glancing down at Ben. She was perched on the armrest of the chair Ben was sitting in, and Ben looked back at her before shrugging his shoulders. 

“Dude, Bev, hook me up too.” Richie said from behind the bar. He wasn’t actually mixing any drinks, as all of them had declared themselves done with drinking for the night, instead tapping against the counter when he got the urge and chewing on ice. Beverly laughed. 

“Anyone else want a hookup?” She asked, Mike raising a hand resignedly, Bill doing the same. Beverly began to laugh, meeting Bill’s eyes again as she brought her drink to her lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The Losers planned on staying in New York for a total of five days, and on day three, while out exploring the city, Bill got a text from Beverly. 

_ From: Bev M. _ _   
_ _ got you a date tonight!! semi-fancy restaurant. 7:00pm. The reservation is under my name. I’ll text u the address!!! _

Oh. What? Bill simply stood there, staring at his phone screen. He hadn’t thought she was serious, when she’d asked for hookups. But here he was, with a date tonight. He would have kept standing there in his bewilderment if someone hadn’t bumped into his shoulder, making him realize that he was stock still in the middle of a New York City sidewalk, and he began back to his hotel room. He had to start getting ready. 

The restaurant was fifteen minutes away, so Bill left his hotel room with thirty minutes to spare, navigation turned on and cell phone in hand. He hadn’t really brought any fancy clothes on the trip with him, but he hadn’t had the time or the energy for a full shopping trip, so he was making do with some light blue slacks and a plain white dress shirt, hoping that the fact that the shirt was tucked in and that the leather shoes and the leather belt matched was enough to pull the whole look together. 

He arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, but when he told the host the name his reservation was under, he gave a curt nod, telling Bill that the other half of his party was there already, and asking him to “follow me, please”. Bill felt the first thrum of nerves in his chest, reaching up to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, wondering if he should unbutton a few--having two popped open was too many, right?--when the host stopped, and Bill stopped, and his date looked up at him. 

“...the fuck, bro?”

Eddie. Eddie was sitting there, staring up at him. He looked and sounded stunned, and Bill was sure he had an equally stunned look on his own face. But Eddie… Eddie was dressed very nicely, in a red dress shirt and black suit jacket, his hair styled, and it completely threw Bill for a moment. He looked incredible. 

“Are… Are you sure this is the right table?” Bill asked. “For the reservation?”

The host looked annoyed. “Party of two for Beverly Marsh at seven, correct?” He asked. Bill nodded, seeing Eddie also nod in the corner of his eye. “I assure you sir, this is the proper table. Please.” He gestured to the chair, and at a loss for what else to do, Bill sat. 

“A server will be with you shortly.” The man told them both, before whisking himself away. 

The silence between them was heavy for a moment, slightly tense and very unsure, before Bill decided to shake himself out of it. This was Eddie, the same Eddie he’d known since childhood. No reason to act strange. 

“You clean up really nice, Eds.”

“Oh, shut up.” Eddie answered, not looking at him, though there was a pink dusting across his cheeks, visible in the romantically dim lighting of the restaurant, that told Bill he’d liked the compliment anyway. “What the hell was Bev thinking?”

“This is probably just a joke.” Bill said. It was the only thing that made sense to him. He wasn’t sure why she would set him up with Eddie, someone she’d said she had an actual date for, but still. Maybe her original plan had fallen through. Maybe she’d been messing with them the entire time. Or maybe not.

“Richie and Stanley had better not be hiding around a goddamn bush somewhere, with a fucking camera or something.” Eddie said, glancing around for a moment, the idea of it making Bill laugh. He found he wouldn’t mind some footage of this night, sneakily taken on Richie Tozier’s phone or not. Eddie really, really looked good. 

_ Take a picture.  _ The familiar phrase crossed his mind, usually reserved for men gawking at pretty girls.  _ It'll last longer. _

“Joke or not, Beverly and Ben are the ones paying.” Bill pointed out, picking up his menu. “We might as well have a nice dinner, right? The food looks really good.” 

Eddie gave the proposal a thought for a moment before nodding. They both ordered shortly after, and once Eddie gave his heavily modified order to their poor waiter, who was writing all the allergies and substitutions down as quickly as she could, he seemed to relax. That had Bill relaxing in turn—once a leader, always a leader, never able to fully sit back if one of his own was in distress—and they began to talk. 

Bill always forgot how nice it was to spend time with Eddie until he was actually doing it. They’d spent a lot of time together as kids, the two of them friends before anyone else in the Losers Club. And often, when they were together, they weren’t doing anything specific, just being in each other’s company; doing homework together, reading side by side, Bill telling Eddie a story he’d thought up to write. Eddie was the first one to hear about his dreams of being a author, and the first one to support him with them. 

Despite all of the familiarity, it still felt like a date, too. There was a slight, underlying sense of anticipation, of anxiousness. There was Eddie, still acting himself, but with a thread of self-consciousness to his movements and his words. Bill, unable not to linger for what might be a moment too long whenever their eyes met. 

Two hours and over a hundred dollars out of Beverly’s pocket later—she was a fashion designer, she could take it—they left the restaurant and broke out onto the street. They were staying at the same apartment, walking in that direction together. A few drops began to fall, Bill glancing up. The weather app on his phone hadn’t said anything about rain, but there the clouds were. Eddie, of course—Eddie, always prepared—reached into an inside pocket of his suit jacket, opening up a compact umbrella. Bill ducked under it, Eddie accommodating him without Bill having to ask, and being so close had Bill noticing two things: Eddie smelled incredibly good, and Eddie was a solid two inches taller than him.

“Fuck.” Bill muttered, having to glance  _ up  _ t o look at Eddie’s face. The word was more to himself, but Eddie was close enough to hear, and laughed. 

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll always be Big Bill to me.” Eddie said. Rain was steadily coming down harder. “It wasn’t really a height title anyway; it’s just you, you know?”

“Me?”

“Being a leader, being strong, being fast, being brave, all that shit.” 

“You’re brave too.” Bill said; he couldn’t help it. “What you did, leaving Myra—I’m proud of you. I don’t know if I ever said that.”

Eddie took the words at a nod, seeming to think them over, his lips scrunching as he did; seeming to taste them in his mouth. 

“You were always the bravest of us, Bill. You can not argue—” He must have seen Bill’s mouth open in the corner of his eye— “Because you have no idea—you have no idea how cool I thought you were.”

“Oh, were. Ouch” Past tense. Bill had to laugh a bit. “That hurts, Eds.”

Eddie stopped to laugh when he realized the backhanded sort of compliment, seemingly too caught up in nostalgia to notice it at first. 

“Please, you can’t pretend you didn’t have a fucking soft spot for me.”

They weren’t walking anymore, very close together under Eddie’s tiny umbrella. While not completely empty, the rain had emptied the streets enough for them to be left to talk without blocking the sidewalk. 

“How could I not?” Bill asked back. “You, you…”

Eddie always had this look, when they were kids, a look that had been so plain and open that Bill couldn’t have missed it if he tried. And he didn’t try, unable to help but bask in it instead—a look that told him that Eddie thought Bill had been the one to hang the moon. The expression was covered up more as they got older, taken over by teenage self-awareness, but still peeking through every now and then. Now that they’d grown, Bill figured that the look was gone, that Eddie’s admiration of him had to have faded. 

But it was here, now, also mixed with adoration as Eddie looked down at him, so plain and so open and full, and all Bill wanted to do was kiss him. So he did. 

Eddie’s grip slackened on the umbrella and a moment later it was swept away, but that didn’t matter in the slightest because Eddie’s hands were on his face, kissing him back. 

That energy that Eddie had, that energy always under the surface; Bill could feel it as Eddie kissed him, as Eddie pressed as close as possible, but the kiss wasn’t hard, or harsh, or fast. It was soft, as gentle as Eddie was timid, but as sincere as Eddie was brave. 

Rain was falling down around them, down on them, but Bill didn’t notice it until they broke apart, the drops big and cold and heavy on their cheeks and shoulders and in their hair. Bill found he didn’t care, either, about getting wet; his hand found the back of Eddie’s neck, still wanting to be close, smiling as he felt Eddie’s forehead rest against his own.

“You know Bill, of all the times I imagined kissing you, I never imagined having to lean down to do it.” Eddie told him, and Bill burst into laughter. 

“Fuck you.” He said, Eddie laughing too, the two of them having to lean away to avoid knocking heads. The umbrella was completely gone to the wind now, and with light touches and even lighter hearts, made a mad and laughing dash towards Bill’s hotel room. The rain might have been cold, but it was the warmest Bill had felt in a long time. 


End file.
